Tag: perspective

Broken Chandeliers

January 29th, 2026

The day you took me in was probably the best day of my life.
I flew across the world to reach you—without hesitation, without fear.
You never asked for much.
You only noticed my hands were shaking, and you saw what most failed to see:
a girl lost in a world that was never meant for her.

It was exactly 10 a.m. when you received my call.
Anyone else would have told me I was fine.
By the afternoon, you had driven an hour to pick me up and rescue me.
I could see how deeply you loved me—how you would have set the world on fire if it meant saving me.
I hope you know how much I love you.

The thing about constant disappointment is that, over time, you lose the ability to recognize the good in your life.
The idea of being cared for feels almost too intense,
because you learned how to survive without anyone.

You were the first person I truly let in,
and the person I disappointed the most.

I have lived a life accompanied by broken flashlights
and mirrors that reflected a distorted version of myself.
I spent so much time trying to put the pieces back together
that I became blind to everything around me.

You always told me this—even after we fought:

“You will always have a place in my home.”

And as a tear slid down my face and into my closed mouth,
I looked at you in disbelief,
because I had never known what it meant to have a home.

You accepted me for who I was, and you took the time to teach a broken soul what it meant to smile for the first time.
You gave me a reason to get out of bed every morning, and when I was sick, you made sure there was warm food waiting beside me.
There was nothing you wouldn’t have done for me-and I didn’t deserve any of it,
because I didn’t even know how to tell you that I loved you.

And when I left, you hugged me with no emotions. I know that I broke your heart, but I couldn’t show you that my heart was already scattered in pieces.

If I could go back in time- I don’t think I could change anything.

But I would give you the biggest hug and tell you I love you.

And say thank you for teaching me what it means to love someone.

Maybe one day, you can pour me another glass of wine and we can sit in front of the city wondering where life will take us.

Maybe one day you will forgive me and understand that my mental illness was bigger than all of us- a girl with an ego.

The day you took me in. I learned to be free.

-perspective
Fear, Approval, and the Shadows We Hide Behind

June 9th, 2025

Our fear is wrapped around hurting our loved ones.

We hide behind the shadows of our idols and when we need to make decisions- we ask ourselves

“would they approve?”

Fear has an interesting way of controlling the mind. We believe that if we feel fear we need to run away from it- but what do we gain from it?

What we fear will come back to us until we eventually face it- and then it becomes another regular object that passes us by.

And why do we care so much about approval when we are the deciders.

And why would we pass up an opportunity that we have been dreaming of our whole lives to satisfy a society that anyways isn’t consistent?

Sometimes- we disappoint the people we love.

Sometimes what we want and who we are no longer aligns or has never aligned with their beliefs.

And you feel as if you failed- because you couldn’t satisfy. But the truth to it all- is that running away from fear means disappointing ourselves.

There is no winning- there is no losing.

The ones who truly love you will stay and eventually accept your decision-even if they will never understand.

And the ones who don’t- are people you don’t need in your life anyways.

Fear is an invitation- and disappointment is part of decision making. The question is, do you want to live a life you want or will you stay hidden behind shadows that you eventually outgrow?

-perspective
When the Moon Yawns.

May 27th, 2025

she used to stay up at night. Looking at her phone she sees no one was looking for her. Is she alone or is she addicted to the machine that became her lifeline-

Wake up she tells herself, it’s 3 in the morning why would she feel the urge to open her eyes so early.

If she looked out her window maybe she could see the moon yawning and the night illuminating a sidewalk that she walks past everyday yet never truly sees.

Now it’s three in the afternoon and she’s asleep. Her mind is trapped in a cycle of living in a dream- and disintegrating in the daytime.

Are we really living if we hate every part of it?

She wakes up- already waiting for the day to end

yet she has plans to conquer the world- but when she sees her phone empty she coincides with the power box and the life she so hopefully wants to conquer goes into the depth of empty promises and worn out shoes that has no more room to walk in.

She wants to yell- she’s tired of meeting with the moon every night, she became an absolute stranger to the sun, she wonders if she can ever get out of this loop and if it’s hopeless.

She’s lost everything when all she did was hold onto it.

Maybe if she’d just let go-

maybe if she took care of herself-

maybe maybe maybe.

maybe?

the voices of the unheard

Perspective.
You Don’t Have to Escape to Heal: A Mental Health Journey in the Dark

April 23rd, 2025

when the stars are out and you put your headphones on, what do you think about?

Are you able to escape your reality just for a second, or do you feel as if the world is collapsing, and you are the cause of it?

And why is it that when you go home at the end of a beautiful day, you lay still on your bed and cry for hours, just to wake up and start the day all over again?

And you tell yourself: this day is too much for me, and you feel as if no one truly knows you.

Perspective is about understanding that the days when we fall apart, the days when sadness takes over, and our body feels the weight of a million stones- is the reason we can truly feel happiness.

Today is too much for me. All I want to do is crawl into my bed and not see or talk to anyone. I want to forget my existence today; I want to run away. I sometimes think about creating a new identity- where I move to another foreign place that I have no knowledge of and become a stranger all over again. To forget every bad thing that happened to me, and to fall asleep peacefully when the stars come out.

To evolve is constantly meeting yourself over and over again- it is a loop that no one will ever be able to get out of, and the faster you realize this- that you cannot fight the change, the weight of the world will no longer be on your shoulders.

Today I woke up with tears in my eyes, and all I wanted to do was write.

You don’t need to escape your pain- because it will stay exactly where it is until you decide to let it out.

No matter how much you try to run away, it will be waiting for you in the softness of your pillow, in the hot showers you so desperately crave, and the silence when the room becomes quiet. You are attached to your heart- and you are the only person who can sooth it.

So, How did I learn to not run away from my pain (even when I really want to).

I let it out- because we have no choice but to feel it all.

I walk around with my heart completely open

as if I have a big open scar with light shining out of it.

And do you know the beautiful thing about healing? You’re the only one who truly knows what you need to heal from. But when you start facing your pain and your scars are exposed, the world feels it—and that’s when you begin to attract good things.

I may not be the most perfect girl in the world. And my journey with my mental health is a work in progress. But when I opened my heart to the world, the good, the bad, it let me in. The world was never against you, you just needed to learn to live alongside it- and to stop fighting change.

And maybe then, you’ll take your headphones off, feel the quiet rhythm of your heart beating—and for once, not be afraid of it.
Embracing Change: When Letting Go is Necessary

April 21st, 2025

A quiet shift.

We outgrew each other. There are no heroes, no villains—just change.

In the darkness of Seattle, you all were my sun.
When my life was unraveling, you pulled me back in.
You brought light where I felt nothing but gray.
You left flowers on my doorstep, sent voice notes late at night, reminded me I wasn’t alone.
You gave me a version of family I didn’t know I was craving.

You were the realest thing I had.
You were the sun to my storm.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.
Not overnight—but slowly. Quietly.
Inside jokes started to fade. Plans became fewer. My name stopped showing up in the group chat.
And I started wondering if maybe we weren’t growing apart—maybe we had already grown, just in different directions.

I don’t hate you. I never could.
But I also can’t pretend we’re still who we were.
And maybe that’s okay.

Ever since I moved to the middle east, I still see you all in the reflections of the wandering streets, and certain music that brings me back to the rain.

I remember every piece of you, and when I look into the eyes of the people closest to me, I search for you. my friends- who once gave me their whole world.

If I could send you a dozen roses to your doorsteps, and be present I would. But change is inevitable, and it is bigger than us

and maybe that’s okay too..

When Distance is The Right Choice

Eventually, when it hurts too much to call-or you notice that you have no urge to text them back, letting go is the only choice you’ve got. Outgrowing people you love is never easy but it shows us that the earth is still spinning- and you are evolving alongside it

And I will never forget the seeds they planted in me—
the ones that helped me bloom
into the flower that I have become now, but the sun shifted and It is too dangerous to go back into your light.

when distance is the right choice, you learn to walk away.

When it is the right choice, you must listen to your heart when your mind is screaming at you to stay.

So I may not text you back

and I may no longer come around,

but I promise you I’m not hating you,

I’m healing myself.

-Perspective How do you let go?
Maybe We All Just Need an Early Night: On Healing, Loss, and Perspective

April 16th, 2025

Hi perspective. Its been a while. How have you been?

I have been distant from my writing for a while. I sat hours in front of my computer just to erase words that felt ‘used’ or ‘mundane’, but in reality, I just needed an early night.

Finishing the army was like breathing again for the first time in two years, but the light has vanished and the uniform is still imprinted on my body. flashbacks. I still look for you that night, and I still wake up to the sounds of your cries, and each time I try to comfort you but you slip away from my hands over and over again.

Or maybe I just need an early night.

It’s so easy to lose ourselves. We chase change, believing it’s what we need, even when we’re already enough just as we are. But that chase becomes addictive — a quiet drug that keeps us moving, searching. And then one day, you notice your bed feels empty, the lamp looks strange, and suddenly, you realize you’ve lost more of yourself than you ever intended to give away.

Maybe I am not built for an early night.

I woke up from the sirens in my dreams, and your hand that I was unable to hold. I woke up from the gun that was raised in the air, and my heart that couldn’t keep up, and I am in search for you everywhere.

You looked me in the eyes and you told me that you could never trust me.

I was holding the whole world for you and you had no idea.

You can be in so much pain. You can hurt — deeply. But pain has a way of distorting your lens, warping your view of the people around you. It reshapes them into things they’re not, casting shadows where there were none. And sometimes, it’s not them changing — it’s the glasses you’re wearing.

***********

I want an early night with you.

Not the kind filled with noises and distractions-

Just us.

I want the warmth in my bed to come back to

a warmth not just from the feel of your body but from your soul,

and how the world and all its problems gets smaller.

And the stillness of your hands around my body, a peace for my insomnia.

but perspective: maybe we all need an early night.
one unread message.

March 25th, 2025

An internal battle is a sword that doesn’t dull

i want to hold your hand- but you’re so far away.

How do you know if your family loves you when you were at your lowest and they stayed silent? when the beast came out you froze, but when the war was over you remembered my name.

We shared a room,

We shared a life.

You saw me when I was drowning- could you not lend a life?

You were a product of a creator that destroys, you run the same blood as me and yet we don’t see eye to eye.

I want to love you, but where were you when i needed love?

We haven’t spoken in a year, You’re getting married soon.

I am a visitor in your life- Family doesn’t leave their sister to fade into the misery of their pain: The truth.

perspective can you hear me?

perspective are you my family?

i am standing in a crowded room, looking for you. When the flashbacks hit me, all i see is me in search of my big sister who was supposed to meet me on the other side.

I searched for you day and night-

Yelling your name so loud in every corner that you could have been hiding.

Holding on to a memory of a sister I once had, before the trauma, and cussed the world for making me so broken that even my oldest sister didn’t want me anymore.

You ask me what it means to build a home, But do you really know what home means?

When there is a roof over your head, and your room is sound proof.

It takes more than screws and a hammer to build a home.

You can have expectations but nothing is set in stone. You must learn to accept before you give, and when you see a room with the lights off you bring a candle. To build a home you need to be attentive. A room is never soundproof, and when the night eventually comes you have to turn on the lights.

until one day you hear a knock on your door

*knock knock*

no answer.

but it’s too late

she already left

———————————————————

Perspective?

Yes Shira

are you there?

I’m wide awake.

(an unfinished story)
When the Mirror Doesn’t Speak.

March 4th, 2025

I am mistaken by the world for a girl who loves to party.

But in reality. I just want to close my eyes and forget that the world exists.

I wear a million masks- and the only place I am truly myself is within words that never fall into the right hands.

Our body remembers the heat of the day, or the cold. It shadows crowded pathways, and familiar places that no matter how much your mind has blacked out, your body remembers.

No one talks about it enough,

or maybe we are all silent writers hoping to be heard by the right people.

If you ask me what I dream of, Id tell you I dream about love, constantly.

Love that exists through words, and memories, and loyalty.

Love that sees through me, that wants to heal me.

Love that lasts.

Maybe that is everyone’s dream. But I think about it everyday, because not a lot of people see me for me.

I walk around with tired eyes.

Eyes that from a first glance tells a story of a million traumas and fears.

I wonder what people think when they see my eyes- I wonder if one day Ill meet someone with the same eyes as me.

****

I’ve had a million arguments with you.

I yelled at you, I called you ugly, I didn’t feed you, I didn’t care for you

I let you get unhealthy, I let you fall apart a million times

but you were the only person that was there for me.

-My reflection in the mirror.

We mistreat ourselves but we forget that we are the soul attached to the body.

How did I blame myself for getting raped? I was 14 years old.

Why do I blame myself for falling into meaningless relationships- and endless hookups, when in reality, was the only way I could get control back after the rape.

Yet I look at myself in the mirror, and I hate that I dont know what love is- or how to accept love, but when I cried for help no one was there.

-the girl in the mirror is crying because she saved you- and you dont see it.

Our mind knows when to run away, when to freeze, or when to shut down.

I know you tried to fight, and your body lied still.

I know you tried to scream and nothing came out.

But you were just 14, and before that, you were just 13.

and yet I still dream about love.

That one day- Someone will meet me through my writing, through my words, and through my eyes

and understand that I am real, I am here.

-another entry of an unfinished thought.

sincerely,

perspective.
Collecting Trauma Cards: A Survivor’s Story of Family, Silence, and Strength

January 4th, 2025

At times I think about how I would sit in the passenger side of the car, talking to my dad about how I want to change the world. That I want to be the good in the bad, and earn enough money so that I can help others. As a kid I would dream about moving back home- constantly having to fit in tight corners of expectations that would never hold space in my heart. A youth of wanting to see the world, and getting pushed down from it, only to come home to my biggest haters. Love comes in all forms and I am sure that somewhere in all the madness there was a bit of love, but what fed into my trauma was not that you were the main people who caused it, but rather you blaming and ignoring me when I did go through the trauma.

I started seeing a therapist. It took us about three sessions until I could finally tell her everything I had gone through from the age of 12 to now. I know she probably heard worse, but as I spoke out about every age I could see her heart breaking alongside mine. It was as if I had collected rare trading cards, each filled with a different trauma attached to the core part of the card. And as this 12 year old began to collect these playing cards, no one could trade her for anything better because at 12 years old do you even know what trauma is?

I used to believe that things have to get better. That eventually- there will always be a light at the end of a dark tunnel, but what they dont tell you is that you can get lost in there too. The tunnels extend in all different directions, teasing you with a glimpse of light, and eventually you just wait until the light becomes dim again because all you know is how to survive in the night.

The thing about ptsd is that you are constantly in fight or flight, and no matter how many people try to pull you out of it, the dreams and flashbacks make you feel as if you are 13 again, or put you right back in the battle fields while your body can no longer endure the heaviness of the gun.

And she asks me, you have been living for about eight years of your life with five different traumas and you didn’t come for help until now. I had nothing to say. I agreed with her but in that moment also realized that I have been dealing with it alone for 6 years and I am still alive.

I am still alive.

-welcome to an unfinished thought.

Perspective.
The Art of Destruction

December 3rd, 2024

She notices that her cup is filled just enough to get her drunk, yet her thoughts already filled the glass. You see, that is the art of destruction. Everything that comes into your life ends up hurting you, or you hurt it, there is no in between, no balance. When I was 5 years old, looking at the stars I asked myself

“is this temporary?”

but unfortunately, it all began to be temporary.

“Temporary love, Temporary feelings, Temporary hugs. I learned to let you go before you actually let go- says destruction

And I notice myself swaying in my room, accompanied by the shadows of yet another faded relationship, and the wine glass that now appears to be empty is the only thing holding me together.

I always wished to be a poet. To which I can write my words, just so you can feel them. Writing has been the only staple in my life, and it always finds its way back to me.

And it takes me back to that girl on the bench- at two am. It snowed that day, and all she wore was a cocktail dress, and headphones that were hidden in between her fallen, brown curly hair. She looked so fragile, yet she seemed unfazed by the cold. The art of destruction- you feel the world burning down- forgetting how to live in it. You live your life in slow motion, waking up by the alarms ringing beside your ears, and just like a machine you go to work. Or you dont. Its a loop that eats you alive. A nightmare that you cant get out of.

And then the sun goes down, and you begin to feel. Your heart starts beating again, you become awake- because you finally synced up with the world. Because everyone has gone to sleep, or are indulging in whatever addiction they have, and you gained a sense of quietness that only your heart can feel. Because at two am, when the world has gone to sleep, there is nothing that can hurt you. Or maybe this whole time, when you take the headphones off, you notice that its you sitting on that bench at 2 am

perspective asks, are you awake?

and I reply,

not yet.

-from my empty glass of wine